Fur, Fangs and Mutant Freaks
by Zeelee
Summary: Ch 7 up! An OC with an attitude rescues Kurt from being thrashed by anti-mutant bar brawlers, but what does she hold in store for the X-men?
1. Default Chapter

A/N: All right, this story requires a little bit of explaining first. Trent Raven is my original character, but I made her up in an L.J. Smith fic, so I guess this is kind of a crossover fic, but the Night World only really appears in the first coupla chapters, so it's okay if you're not familiar with it--it doesn't have anything to do with the story.   
  
If you want to read more about Trent, her story began in my fic Trent Raven, in the Night World verse. And those who read Trent Raven, this story takes place about six, seven years after that one ended. Also, this story is pretty much set outside any timeline or events in the X-Men comics: I just kinda took the characters I wanted in the story and said, Okay, this is the X-Men right now.  
  
As always, Marvel owns X-Men, I own Trent, and L.J. Smith owns the Night World and the kind of vampires I'm using.  
  
Man, that's gotta be the longest A/N I've ever written.  
Enjoy!  
  


  
Chapter 1  


  
  
The heart of Nevada was not a glittering city, complete with casinos, whores and eager vacationers--it was no sparkling spectacle of excitement, laughs and cheap thrills.   
It was a wasteland, a desert stretching from horizon to horizon, nothing but sagebrush, sand and the occasional dying tree as far as the eye. It was beautiful, in its own way--as beautiful as the rainforests or magnificent redwoods tourists paid thousands of dollars to see, but its beauty was cold, desolate, uncaring. No tourists would be visiting this landscape willingly.  
A lone figure slogged his way across the Nevada desert as the sun set on a hot day in September. He was miles away from the nearest highway and the nearest town--he'd been stranded out here for two days now, forcing himself to go on, to keep walking. His mutant powers that made him so formidable an enemy in the human world were useless here; he was as helpless as any other human out here.   
Kurt Wagner usually considered himself a survivor, a scrapper who always managed to survive the toughest situations. He'd survived falling down a waterfall as a mere baby, hadn't he? He'd escaped numerous mobs that wanted his blood because of his demonic appearance, hadn't he? And yet, this desert was beating him.  
He and his fellow X-men had been battling a supernatural being who called herself Kali, after the Indian goddess of death. Kali was an amazingly strong telepath, but with the advantage of super strength and scythelike blades jutting from her elbows, wrists, knees, head, hands and feet. She was a formidable enemy, but they had gravely underestimated her power.   
What troubled him the most was that he didn't know exactly what had happened to him. He remembered seeing Shadowcat trapped practically in Kali's clutches, with no way to phase out or escape. He remembered leaping for her, grabbing her in his arms.....  
He must have teleported out. He did remember rushing through the otherspace with Kittie, but... he lost control. Or something _took_ control--he remembered Kitty being wrenched out of his arms and teleported someplace far away, and he--he ended up here. In the desert.  
Kurt hadn't had anything to eat or drink in two and a half days. He was horribly sick after teleporting such a long ways, and his mind was still feeling the effects. Everything was.... bleary. Blank. He had a hard time focusing his thoughts, or his feet, or anything... he had to get water. The nearest town couldn't be that far away.... it just couldn't....  
  
***  
  
She shouldn't have come back. She should have trusted her instincts and avoided Nevada like the plague. She'd been here too many times before, and each trip was associated with a thousand painful memories. True, Reno wasn't Las Vegas; she was still hundreds of miles away from where she'd first met Orion, where she'd been hunted until she was on the verge of collapsing. But it was close enough to that devil city to make her heartstrings bleed.  
  
Trent Raven was sitting in a shadowed corner of some ill-reputed bar on the outskirts of Reno, clutching a bottle of Tequila. It was around midnight, and the place was packed with truckers, cocktail waitresses and casino workers, all of them clustered around the bar, demanding more alcohol! More anesthetic! More magic detergent to wash away the stains of life!  
  
Trent could smell the desert outside, the salty tang of the sand, the fresh spice of the sagebrush, the clear, ominous scents that meant absolutely no water. The desert.... for centuries it has symbolized the ultimate test of human endurance, the ultimate danger. The desert was one of the few things that still scared Trent--the fear of the unknown, the fear of dying slowly of thirst and heat, dust coating her throat, eyes and ears, unable to defend herself against nature.  
  
Trent sensed someone outside just before the door swung open, revealing a blue-clad figure. Gasps filled the room as he stumbled, gasping and grabbing the nearest table for support. Her eyes widened as Trent realized he wasn't _dressed _in blue--he _was_ blue. His entire body (he was almost naked, except for a few shreds of some kind of uniform) was covered in blue fur, and to make things even worse a blue, forked tail grew from his butt, and yellow, desperate eyes stared out at them. Please... give me... some water, he gasped.  
  
The entire bar was silent as its occupants stared at the creature. Then the bartender, sliding any liquids on the bar away from the newcomer, said, We don't serve mutants.  
  
Please... just a sip... I've been.... stranded-  
  
Didn'cha hear me, mutie? I said we don't _serve_ your kind!  
  
The mutant groaned, flashing the room an impressive pair of fangs. Please.... so thirsty....  
  
Trent could feel the wave of resentment, anger and fear building up before the crash. This bar was about to explode! Her body tensed in preparation as a drunk shouted, Get and a mob pounced on the poor blue man, setting off a full-fledged bar fight.   
  
The mutant fought back as much as he could, but the mob attacked him with chairs, knives, broken bottles, anything they could find, and their victim was incredibly weak, only able to block a few of the blows that rained down on him. Trent could feel his mind, his terror, his confusion--and she felt something more.... almost an _affinity_ with him, as if they were somehow the... same?  
  
Part of her wanted to rescue him. But most of her wanted--_needed_--to keep a low profile. She was being hunted, after all, and it was imperative to her survival that no one knew where she was. Getting involved, rescuing the mutant would bring her whereabouts to her enemies' attention--in fact, she shouldn't even be here now, seeing as the police would be here soon, and bring her to the attention of the Nevada authorities. Besides: why should she help him? Survival of the fittest. Natural selection. The weak suffer the strong--that's how it's always been. She'd seen countless numbers of the weak in the world die without lifting a finger--that's the way the world worked. She certainly wasn't going to change that philosophy now. Picking up her things, she turned to go.  
  
Then the bar door exploded, and in walked a tall, muscular redheaded man. His hard, black eyes searched the room until they found hers, and he smiled.  
  
_Shit_, Trent thought. _The motherfuckers found me!_ She could see more vampires spill through the door behind their leader. This was going to get very ugly, very fast.  
  
The redheaded man chuckled. Well well, if it isn't Little Miss Rrrrraven! To think that we chased you all over the globe to finally find you in _Nevada_, of all places.  
  
Trent yawned, feigning calm confidence. Surely a rich spoiled brat like you can find better things to do than trail after the likes of _moi,_ Gabriel.  
The entire bar was now silent, observing this odd exchange, their assault on the blue creature forgotten. MOre vampires flowed into the room, their numbers seemingly endless, and Trent felt her stomach lurch as she realized she was _not_ going to get out of this unscathed.  
  
Gabriel's eyes searched the room and came to rest on the furry blue man, who was crouched against the wall, panting and snarling. Trent felt a wave of fear for him: Gabriel wasn't exactly tolerant of anyone different.  
  
Sure enough, Gabriel's eyes widened and his lip curled in disgust upon seeing the mutant. What luck, he sneered. We get a furry _freak_ to play with along with our dear friend Trent. His handsome face twisted into a cruel smile. Those that want to, go... make _friends_ with the furry monster over there--the rest of you, help me deal with the problem of Trent Raven once and for all.  
  
The bar exploded, once again, into pandemonium, as several vampires attacked the mutant, several (including Gabriel) attacked Trent, and the humans in the bar went crazy, attacking the mutant, the vampires and each other.   
  
Trent hopped off her stool, reaching down and breaking off one of its wooden legs, making a crude stake. Reaching up, she rammed it into the stomach of the first vampire that came at her, ignoring his screams and the blood that gurgled from the wound she'd just made. Jumping up, she snapped a kick that would crumble a concrete wall at her next assailant's head, then crouched down beneath a blow aimed at her chest. The fight had begun; she could feel the adrenaline and animal instinct taking over, guiding every motion, every kick, every punch, every killing blow. She was a machine; she was perfection of movement, the essence of deadly grace.  
  
But there were too many. They swarmed around her like too many mosquitoes, driving her insane before they were ready to kill her. And yet... in the midst of all the fighting, she could still sense the blue creature, could smell him, hear him, feel his mind. Everything about him was afraid and in pain--not surprising, seeing as he was being attacked and taunted by five or so vampires. Trent could see one particularly vicious black-haired vampire dealing heavy blows across the mutant's head and shoulders with a huge, heavy stake that he was using as a club. She saw him raise the stake for a killing blow, and without thinking she leapt.  
  
***  
  
He was strong. He was also fast, agile and smart. But he, the famous Nightcrawler, was sobbing on the floor, scrambling, desperate to get away from his killers.  
  
They were teasing him--Kurt's deranged mind could tell that much. The evil, unbelievably strong men that attacked him were powerful enough to kill him with one blow, yet they leapt about, practically dancing, striking only hard enough to hurt him, wound him, ridicule him, not kill him.  
  
Horrible pain shattered in his head as his cruelest attacker swung his club like a baseball bat into Kurt's head, sending the elf hurling into the wall. His face covered in blood, his head and mind exploding with pain, his throat so parched and dry that he couldn't even swallow, he was too tired to care as the same man who'd played baseball with Kurt's head now raised his stake high. The man smiled, and somewhere in the back of his mind Kurt realized that this was it: this was where he died.  
  
Suddenly he saw his attacker spasm, and a look of horrible pain crossed his face as he slowly dropped to the floor, the stake falling from his hand. His killer pulled her stake out of his back, and looked at Kurt.  
  
The blue misfit was suddenly seized with fear unlike any he'd ever known. Something about her eyes.... colder than ice, more dangerous than anything he'd ever seen... and she was advancing on him, the stake still in her hand.  
  
He shrieked and scrambled backwards, certain that this demon was going to kill him. She frowned and reached towards him, the stake still clutched in her other hand. Kurt snarled and kicked, hitting her in the solar plexus, and didn't wait to hear her go oof' before getting the hell out of there.  
  
But then a hand shot out, grabbing his temple, and he felt everything going black.  
  
***  
  
Trent looked up, letting go of Kurt. Why had he been so afraid of her? She had saved his _life_, for christ's sake, and he screams and tries to run away from her. How insulting.  
  
But no time to feel annoyed. She had introduced more belligerent, violent thoughts into the drunk humans' heads, and they were currently attacking everyone, including all the vampire's in the bar, keeping them distracted from Trent and the mutant.   
  
She picked up the man she'd just rescued, hauling him over her shoulder potato-sack style. Slipping through the now-ruined door, Trent hauled ass outta there.  
  
She sprinted five blocks of the dark, dirty side streets of Reno before slowing down. Panting, she sent her mind out, scanning for any creatures that might be following her. She'd lost her attackers, thank god: it felt like they were still all tied up at the bar.   
  
She gently removed the man she'd rescued from her shoulders, laying him gently down on the asphalt. Was this really a mutant, like that bartender had claimed? He certainly didn't look like any of the mutants Trent had met before. She could feel his mind, and it was definitely human--but there was something strange with his mind, and his appearance--well, there was nothing remotely _human_ about it. Maybe someone had crossed vampire, shapeshifter and human genes--that could have resulted in something like this man... but shapeshifters could only turn into existing animals! Where would the blue skin have come from?  
  
A raggedy breath escaped from his mouth, and Trent's mind was yanked back to the current problem. He needed medical help immediately: not only was he horribly dehydrated, the mob back at the bar had beaten him severely--he probably had internal bleeding, at least one broken bone, and definitely a concussion. He needed to get to a hospital.  
  
But what hospital would admit someone like this--even if she was able to find a doctor who wouldn't refuse to work on mutants, which was unlikely, they would all be terrified by his demonic appearance. Not to mention that taking him to a hospital would probably bring attention to Trent again, bring her enemies back for more.   
  
So what to do with the limp demon in her arms, now that she'd rescued him from the mob? She couldn't just leave him here, or give him to the local authorities--they'd most definitely lock him up. The only solution, it seemed, was to take him home and look after him until he got better.  
  
She cringed. She wasn't exactly the most nursing, kind, or maternal of people, and the thought of spoon-feeding this boy till he was well enough to move about made her stomach lurch. But she didn't exactly have much of a choice; what the hell had she rescued him for, if she was just gonna let him die?  
  
Sighing, Trent hefted him over her shoulder once more, and set off for her tiny apartment.  
  
***  
  
Well. So now, here he was, lying in Trent's bed. She stared down at him, wondering what the hell she was going to do.  
  
Well, obviously he needed water. He'd been stranded in the desert for several days, from what it sounded like. Fetching a tall glass of water, Trent tipped his head back and gently poured the water down his throat, mentally urging him to swallow.  
  
The water merely flowed out of his mouth and onto his chest.  
  
That couldn't be a good sign. Frowning, she placed a hand to his temple, brushing his mind with hers, and gasped at what she found.  
  
His life force was _incredibly_ low! If she didn't do something immediately, he would be dead within _minutes_, if not seconds.   
  
Trent gulped. She had no medical training; she didn't even know how to treat a wound. He couldn't drink any water, and she could tell from his mind that he was too far gone for her to wake him.   
  
What was strange was that none of his wounds were serious enough to bring him that close to death's door, and he wasn't _that_ dehydrated, either. So why was he dying so fast?  
  
Her hand still on his temple, Trent could feel his life force slip away even further. She had to act now. Gritting her teeth and sending a quick prayer up to the goddess, she reached out to his mind.  
  
She had never tried this before, especially not when her psychic powers were so... erratic. She was able to force energy into a person, yes, but it was usually an offensive move, forcing so much energy into a person that their mind literally exploded. Giving a person energy like this... bringing their life force back... she'd never done _anything_ like this before.  
  
She could feel the energy inside her, rushing, clamoring to get out and destroy. She had to concentrate hard, giving her patient only enough energy to bring him back from the near-dead, not so much to damage him.  
  
Just a little bit more... there. Done. She released her hand from his temple, drenched with sweat. He was breathing evenly now, still incredibly weak but not dying.  
  
Trent shuddered. That had taken... almost everything she had. Her hand shaking, she picked up the water glass again, reaching out to the man whose life she'd just saved.  
  
***  
  
Blackness. Then... he heard sounds... Kurt's eyes fluttered open. Was... uuuhh...  
  
Shh. Don't talk. Drink. Someone was holding out a tall glass of water towards him, tipping it down his throat. He drank greedily, and the water tasted amazing, wonderful--the most delicious thing he'd ever consumed in his life.  
  
He finished the glass, and tried to sit up, only to be attacked by a wave of dizziness. He groaned, putting his head back down.   
  
Don't move. Sleep now. Kurt was only to happy to oblige as he slipped out of consciousness...  
  
***  
  
Kurt. His name was Kurt Wagner. She'd felt that much of his mind, when he woke long enough to drink the water.   
  
This still didn't solve the problem of what she was going to do when he came back to life. She really couldn't stay here long; seeing as the Night World had already tracked her to Reno, she should be booking it out of here as fast as her car would go.   
  
Trent rubbed her forehead, feeling the painful beginnings of a headache coming on. It hadn't exactly been an easy day, and she was long overdue for a good night's sleep. She closed the door on her sleeping guest and stumbled over to the couch, passing out the minute her head hit the pillow.  
  
For the first time in six years, she had no nightmares.  
  
***  
  
Well, whaddya think, guys? Pleeeaaase tell me! Review! Review! Tis good karma to review!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Reviewers, you have no idea how much you guys rock my socks! *muah* I love you all!   
  
p.s. I loved the new fic you're working on, Rachel--I reviewed it on LJ. I def. think you should post it on this site.  


  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  


Professor Charles Xavier removed Cerebro from his head and groaned, clenching his fists in frustration.  
A brown and white-haired head peeked through the door. Are you all right?  
He sighed. I'm--fine, Rogue. Just frustrated.  
She smiled and walked toward him. Any luck? Have ya found him yet? Is he with Kitty, in Alaska?  
He frowned. No. There no traces of Nightcrawler up north.  
.... Are there traces of him _anywhere?_  
He hated to shatter the hope in her eyes, but he couldn't lie. No, Rogue. I just barely caught him in... I think it was Nevada? But I lost his signal as soon as I found it. It just--blinked out.  
Rogue's eyes widened in fear for her foster brother. Does--does that mean he _died?!_  
No, no! I've felt mutants die on Cerebro before, and this was nothing like that. I'd say it was more like... something or someone was _hiding_ him from me.  
But you got his location for a second, didn't you? Let's go get   
I'm afraid I _didn't_ get his location, Rogue--I felt his mind, for a precious few seconds, but I didn't manage to get his exact whereabouts. I thought it was Nevada, but that's still a _huge_ area, and now that I lost him again... well, for all I know he could be on another _planet._  
The fierce Southern Belle's eyes were bright, and Rogue blinked back tears. But Professor... we can't just leave him out there! We gotta do _somethin'!_  
And we will--as soon as the rest of the team gets back from fetching Kitty, we'll set out for Nevada immediately.  
  
***  
  
Darkness. Sand... hot sun... the smell of brimstone.  
  
Attack. Hurt. Light...  
  
Kurt awoke slowly from fractured dreams, and was immediately aware of stabbing, horrible pain in his ribs, head, shoulders, pretty much everywhere. His eyes fluttered open, and he yelped at the sight of a face and large metal something right in front of him. Scrambling back, tripping over bedclothes, falling flat on his face and then jumping clumsily back up, he hissed fiercely at his assailant.  
  
The person who'd woken him up scowled at him. It's just soup, she said grouchily, holding out the large metal something--which Kurt could now see was, in fact, a bowl of tomato soup. It won't bite!  
  
Kurt snarled, and then stopped as a tsunami of dizziness overtook him. Pain and nausea lurched in his head and stomach as he stumbled forward.  
  
The woman's eyes widened as she realized what was happening, and a garbage can appeared under Kurt's head just in time. He vomited into it, feeling like he was expelling his very _organs_ out, it hurt so much.  
  
Oh, gross! Trent held the can at arm's length, as if afraid it would jump out and attack her. Man, how did I get myself _into_ this?!  
  
Kurt groaned, rolling over onto his back. Pain thudded in his temples and his sides, and he couldn't remember... god, what had _happened_ to him?  
  
Everything felt fuzzy... he couldn't focus, couldn't think. His mind and senses were reeling.  
  
Here. Drink this. A tall glass of water seemed to appear out of nowhere before him, and he drank greedily. Finishing, he moved away from Trent, crouching into a fighting stance, his yellow eyes narrowed and glaring. Some animal instinct inside him was warning him, controlling him. He snarled.  
  
Trent glared, planting her hands on her hips. I saved your life, you ungrateful little shit. I'm not gonna hurt you!  
  
Kurt remained crouched in the corner.  
  
Christ. Will you at least let me fix your bandages? Look, that wound in your side reopened... she reached towards him, but he only hissed and backed further away.   
  
Trent rolled her eyes. Fine. Whatever. There's soup and water by the bed; just... I dunno, vomit or something if you need anything. She stomped out of the room.  
  
Five hours later, Trent was sprawled on her couch, an ice pack on her aching forehead. What the hell...she _never_ got headaches!! One of the advantages to having vampire blood, she supposed. But now her head felt like two (GIANT) german shepherds were mating inside it.   
  
Groan!  
  
She stared out the window. The air had that purple-gray light quality that manifests just before dawn, and she could see the city of Reno begin to wake up. Like it ever slept.  
  
Her psycho houseguest had fallen asleep two hours ago, thank god. She didn't know whether he was a telepath or not, but his thoughts were abnormally loud to her, and they were not pretty. He seemed to be part animal, part human, part something else, and his constant confusion, anger and violent thoughts were what was causing her headache. She could tell that his mind was... altered. Whether it was from a bad concussion or something that had happened to him, she couldn't tell, but she knew that he wasn't always this... animalistic. Still, his terror and apprehension hanging in the air around her was annoying, to say the least.  
  
Trent felt him wake up, and groaned. Dammit, here she was hoping _she_ might get some sleep for once! Sighing, she got up, trudging towards her fretful charge.  
  
When she entered her bedroom, she found her patient--_his name is Kurt,_ she reminded herself--hurling into the trash can she'd placed beside his bed. Inwardly groaning at once more being forced to play nurse, she helped him up and sat beside him.  
  
Kurt moaned and fell back, sweating and feverish. His yellow eyes swept over the form of Trent, and though his mind was still imbalanced and feral from whatever had happened to him, he seemed to recognize and want to talk to her.   
  
Ssh. Don't talk. Trent placed her hand on his temple. _At least, not that way._  
  
Kurt gasped at the voice in his head, fighting the urge to leap back in fear like some animal. _You... you can hear my thoughts?_  
  
_Only if you direct them at me,_ she replied. _With you being so weak, it's easier to communicate this way._  
  
Yellow eyes gazed into Trent's blue ones, and she could feel his suspicions and fears, his doubts about whether or not he could trust her. _My name is Kurt Wagner, he_ said'.  
  
_I'm called Trent Raven._  
  
_What.... who... where am I?! And why--  
  
One question at a time! You're in my apartment, in Reno, Nevada._  
  
Kurt tried to sit up, only to groan and fall back down as dizziness and nausea overcame him again. Trent caught him, supporting his neck as she pressed a damp cloth to his forehead. _What happened to you? I know you were beaten by those bastards at the bar, but--your mind seems... injured. I think you got more than a concussion and a couple bar brawl injuries, fuzzball._  
  
Kurt grimaced. _Ja. I don't... quite remember what happened to me, but I do know in the midst of a fight I was teleported to the middle of the Nevada desert. I was... stranded there for quite some time.  
  
I thought as much. So, you're a mutant, huh?  
  
_Kurt nodded. _Yes.  
  
_This earned him a skeptical look from his rescuer. _You sure don't look like any mutant _I've_ ever seen. Ya sure you don't have some vampire or shapeshifter blood in ya?_  
  
Kurt stiffened. _I may not exactly _look_ like a normal mutant or human, but I assure you, fraulein, I am no _vampire!_  
  
_Trent winced, feeling his revulsion at the term. Maybe it was better to let him believe she was a mutant for now, instead of telling him who she _really_ was. _Okay, calm down, mister! Sorry, I didn't realize I was offending you.  
  
_He sighed. _It is all right--I shouldn't have lashed out like that. Who were those men, in the bar? I noticed that they... they went after you as well as me. _Kurt could feel a sort of... mental connection between him and his caretaker, and through it he could sense her mind withdraw. Beside him, her body stiffened. _I'm sorry--did I say something wrong?_ he asked.  
  
_No--no. It's just...._ Trent abandoned the line of thought his remarks had sent her down, and answered his question. _Those men' that attacked you weren't men at all: they were vampires. Their leader, Gabriel, is an old enemy of mine. He's been hunting me for a long time, and must have tracked me down to that bar.  
  
But then why did he attack me?  
  
Gabriel isn't the most tolerant or kind of people--he hates those who are different, and also happens to be a sadistic asshole. Most likely he just thought it would be fun._   
  
Trent's bitterness and hatred of Gabriel came through loud and clear through the link to Kurt. He squirmed, uncomfortable with feeling the emotions of others, especially this woman whom he barely knew. _And you... saved my life?_  
  
Trent sighed. _Well, yeah, I guess I did.   
  
Thank you. I... I suppose I owe you an apology, Ms. Raven--  
  
The name is Trent.  
  
--Trent. Earlier in the bar, when you saved my life, I was delusional... I thought you were attacking me. And I probably acted the same way earlier.  
  
_Trent snorted. _Yeah, you did. _She grinned. _In fact, I was beginning to think I'd rescued some desert animal, from the way you acted!  
  
_Kurt smiled weakly. She was damping his forehead with a wet cloth, and the moist coolness felt delicious as she gently cleaned his wounds. _Nein, I am no animal--in fact, I am actually a refined young German gentlemen. A baron, no less! _He winked at her, flashing a debonair smile._  
  
_Trent suppressed a chuckle. _Yeah, lemme tell you, fuzzball, you most _definitely_ fit _that_ description!  
  
But of course! Couldn't you tell by royal good looks?_  
  
This time Trent burst out laughing. _Oh, really? So, is tattered spandex and fur the most recent fashion craze in the German court?  
  
Oh, no. This revealing outfit is simply my ploy to seduce all these beautiful American ladies.   
  
_He laughed when he saw her roll her eyes, half-smirking, half-grimacing. _And have you been successful, oh Blue One?  
  
I'm sleeping in the bed of a beautiful woman, who is currently holding me and nursing my wounds while caressing my fur. What do you think?  
  
_Trent laughed and smacked him. _You impudent little--_ suddenly she stopped, and her expression changed. She cocked her head, as if listening for something, and then her eyes widened and she swore so vividly that Kurt's ears stung. Abruptly, she dumped him from her lap and stood up, clawing around underneath the bed, looking for something.  
  
Was?! What's the matter??  
  
A soft snarl escaped from Trent's mouth as she pulled a box out from underneath the bed. It was full of long, sharp wooden stakes of various lengths. Trent pulled out two that were almost a foot long each and tossed them to Kurt. Here. Take these. Shoving two shorter ones in each of her boots, tucking one in the back of her pants and palming a fourth, she kicked the box back underneath the bed and stood back up. Stay in here, and if anyone but me even so much _touches_ the door, get the hell out of here. She swept out of the room.  
  
Wait! Trent! What's going on?!  
  
She turned back to him, her blue eyes wild and fierce. Kurt felt a tremor of fear shiver down his spine. They've found me, she said, her voice grim. In two seconds, they'll be past the spells surrounding this apartment; then they'll try as hard as they can to kill me, and you too if they find you. She gestured towards the stakes in Kurt's hands. Wood's the only thing that can hurt them, and I can tell you know fairly well how to use weapons, but in your condition I wouldn't bet a penny on your survival if they come in here looking for a fight with you. Kurt, I don't care _what_ you hear outside this room, if one of them comes in here _get the hell out._ With that, she turned and left the room, shutting and locking the door behind her.  
  
Trent had barely turned around when her protection spells exploded, breaking in the door and a good portion of the wall. She braced herself as dying magic and splinters of the door flew at her, and silently made a prayer to any god or goddess that was up there to let her get out of this one alive.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: man, this chapter was a bitch to write! I'm sorry, guys, I suck at writing action. : ( The next one will come sooner, I swear!  
  
I love all you reviewers! Don't stop telling me what you think!  
  
  


Chapter 3  
  


The man known to most as Wolverine, to his friends as Logan, sniffed the air, his lip curling in disgust and contempt as he processed the various scents: cigarette butts, alcohol, vomit, neon lights, the sweaty smell of whores. This city stinks, he said, his gruff voice directed at the brunette woman who walked next to him.   
  
Rogue rolled her eyes in good-natured bemusement. _Any_ city stinks to someone with _your_ sense of smell. Although ah have to admit ya have a point: this city stinks, whether you go by the smell or just... the whole damn thing. Her pretty face wrinkled into a frown when she saw two prostitutes coaxing what looked like cocaine from a dealer that couldn't be more than eighteen. She sighed. She was just a country southern belle: she'd never know what drove these poor kids to do such things.   
  
Storm caught up to her and Logan, matching their long, purposeful strides and interrupting Rogue's thoughts. Hey, you two, she said, her face breaking out into a warm grin. Don't look so excited to be here!   
  
Logan rolled his eyes. Lemme tell ya, Ro, traipsin' through this hellhole people have the nerve to call a city lookin' for a certain fuzzy blue misfit who may or may not have ever been here, who might not even be _alive,_ with no word from Xavier on whether or not he's got any clues on the elf's whereabouts is _not_ exactly my idea of a good time.  
  
Ororo Munroe's smile wavered, and she placed a comforting hand on Logan's shoulder. We'll find him, Logan, she said. Cerebro can find anyone on the planet; it'll find our friend.  
  
Except that it hasn't. Storm, Logan and Rogue all jumped--they'd been unaware of Scott coming up behind them.   
  
Rogue gulped. What do ya mean?  
  
I mean, it's been almost six days since we lost Kurt. Cerebro's one of the most powerful machines on Earth, and Professor X is the most powerful mind, but despite both their efforts we've been completely unable to track Kurt except for a very, _very_ brief trace of him in what Professor X_ thinks_ was Nevada, and that was almost three days ago. Something's hiding him from us, and whoever it is is more powerful than Cerebro and Professor Xavier.   
  
Logan frowned, and his hands balled into fists. Are ya sayin' we should just give _up_, Scottie boy? Are ya sayin' that we should just let him go, figure that he'll be all right wherever the hell he is?  
  
Hey, that's not what I meant--  
  
Like hell it isn't! What if it were Jean that was missin? How'd ya feel then? What if--  
  
_I'VE FOUND HIM!!! _ All five X-men jumped at the sudden telepathic call. Logan snarled, fighting the fight-or-flight instincts that wanted him to pop his claws and impale whoever had startled him.  
  
Professor X? Cyclops had assumed his leader stance,' his legs bent and apart, his finger on his visor, ready to defend his teammates. Is that you?  
  
_Of course it's me! I've found him--I've found Kurt! He's right there in the city. There's no time to explain; I'm just downloading his location directly into all your brains. Take the Blackbird to where you find him; I have a feeling you'll need a quick escape. HURRY! I have a feeling that our friend is in the midst of great danger. Now go! GO!  
  
_The message ended as quickly as it came. The X-men stared at each other for a few seconds, wondering what the hell was going on--the professor was very rarely that agitated--before snapping into action.   
  
In less than five minutes, the Blackbird was parked in the dirty alley outside Trent's apartment, and the team was gathered together outside it, staring up at the building.  
  
The apartment's elevators being broken, the X-men trudged (or flew) up twenty long flights of stairs, bitterly wishing for Nightcrawler's porting abilities. Out of breath and stumbling, they finally reached the right floor. Why... do they have to make... buildings so damn tall?! panted Cyclops.   
  
Logan's nostrils flared: he could smell his friend around the corner, along with several smells that were... definitely not human. Come on! he yelled to his teammates. He's just around this corner! Sprinting down the hall, he stopped short when he reached Trent's apartment, the rest of his teammates coming up behind him and stopping just as abruptly. A quick gasp escaped from Jean's mouth, and Wolverine instinctively unsheathed his claws.  
  
Logan was reminded of a feeding frenzy: The door was in splinters at their feet, and inside, what seemed like hundreds of men dressed in black were attacking a person in the center of the room. Splinters of wood littered the room, animalistic roars and screams split the air, and blood and bodies were everywhere. The scents of battle assailed Logan, and he bristled: These people, no matter how much they might look it, weren't _human!_  
  
Uh... Logan, ya sure you got the right room? Rogue asked. Before he got a chance to respond, the vampires took notice of the mutants, and the X-men were part of the battle, fighting for their lives against lethal killing machines that had relinquished any trace of sentience to an all-consuming bloodlust in the heat of battle.  
  
***  
  
Trent opened her eyes as the last bits of her protection smells washed over her and died. Immediately, Gabriel's cronies poured through the door, the malice and animalistic rage in their thoughts temporarily overwhelming Trent. She recovered instantly, and two long stakes were instantly in her hands as she roared a battle challenge to these intruders.  
  
She leapt, the wood in her hands slicing through the air, cutting through necks, arms, chests, anything that moved. She abandoned any thinking part of her brain and gave herself up fully to the task of staying alive. Her chances were much worse here than in that bar: there was less room to fight, no brawling humans to serve as a distraction or hindrance to her assailants, and Gabriel had brought twice the number of vampires than were at the bar.   
  
Trent gasped and ducked as a sharp, wooden knife flew at her head, barely missing spearing her through the forehead. She grimaced and killed the one who threw it, stabbing him and then whirling around to use him as a shield against a second attacker. In the back of the room she could dimly hear Gabriel, barking out orders to his men, egging them on, promising them the blood of a thousand human girls if they injured Trent sufficiently. _He doesn't want them to kill me,_ Trent realized. _They're just there to tire me out, make me weak, so he can come in and do the honors himself._  
  
A feral cry ripped out of Trent's throat, and she fought with a new vigor. _I'll be _damned_ if I let a few untrained, unskilled vampires and a snotty, rich spoiled brat take me down after years of beating the Night World's best assassins! _   
  
Suddenly she became aware of a new presence in the room--several new presences, actually. Her senses told them that they were human, and she knew that the other vampires were coming to the same conclusion.  
  
And unlike her, they needed blood.  
  
She had been able to guess, from the desperation with which these creatures were fighting, that Gabriel hadn't let them feed for several days--probably until they found her. The fact that it weakened them in a fight didn't matter to him: he just liked to see things suffer.  
  
Her combatant's reaction to the humans confirmed her theory. Before the poor souls had so much as a chance to scream, at least ten vampires had broken from fighting with Trent to feast on the newcomers.  
  
Trent barely had time to feel sorry for the victims of the creatures' bloodlust when a bright red beam of energy lanced through several vampires, eliciting animalistic screams and hisses. Trent ducked as a vampire rocketed over her head, thrown by the fist of a brown and white-haired woman.   
  
_What the hell is going on here?_ Trent thought, but was distracted as she saw a vampire, standing apart from the fight, move through the door. It felt like time was slowing down; she could practically see the wheels in the vampire's head turning as his senses and psychic ability brought him the realization of who lay behind Trent's closed bedroom door.  
  
His eyes widened, and he bared his fangs in a demonic grin. Gabriel! She has the blue-furred monst- one of Trent's stakes buried itself in his chest before he could finish the sentence, but it was too late. Gabriel knew.  
  
The red-haired vampire laughed. Of all the crazy things! I knew you were sentimental, Trent, but I never thought you'd _rescue_ that blue freak from the bar and take him home as a pet! He smiled. See how your kindness and sentimentality is rewarded, Trent--watch as I rip out your little pet's heart._  
  
Trent tried to move towards Gabriel, but her foes were all around her, surrounding her, pulling her back, pulling her down, rendering her powerless to do anything but watch in horror as her enemy made his way to the bedroom where Kurt lay.  
***  
  
Wolverine was as happy as he'd ever been, in the dead center of a damn good scuffle, complete and blissful in his beserker rage. Except that something wasn't right: he was faster than these dupes (though not by much), he was a better trained fighter, but his claws... they had no effect. No matter how many times he stabbed the creatures, they came back at him, just as strong as before.  
  
He snarled, slicing his adamantium digits through the abdomen of one of his enemies. The creature hissed, and Logan caught a glimpse of ivory teeth. Before he could ponder this, the creature's fist connected with Logan's jaw, and he stumbled. The vampire hissed again, this time in triumph, and a stake appeared outside of nowhere to bury itself in the mutant's chest.  
  
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Wolverine reached up and snapped his attacker's neck. Breathing a sigh of relief as he heard the thing scream and fall off him, he removed the stake from his stomach...  
  
__And the damn thing wasn't dead yet!_  
  
Wolverine roared in frustration and rage as the cretin jumped him again, this time helped by two of his friends. He could see that his fellow X-men were having no better luck than he: Rogue's punches, that could normally crumple tanks, were having no effect on these foes; Cyclops' beams only aggravated his enemies; Jean could do little more than hold her enemies at arms length with her telekinesis; and Storm, in these tight quarters, could only use wind and the occasional hail to hamper her enemies. The X-men, in other words, were being trounced.  
  
Wolverine reeled as a familiar scent reached his nostrils: Kurt was definitely here, right behind... to his horror, Wolverine watched as an evil-looking villain approached the door he knew Nightcrawler was behind. The man smiled as he placed a hand on the doorknob...  
  
The X-man threw his enemies to the side, rushing at Gabriel, but before he could reach the vampire a stake seemed to come out of nowhere, driving deep into Gabriel's shoulder.  
  
Trent cursed as she watched her nemesis cry and rear back in pain. She had been aiming for his heart dammit! If it weren't for these accursed minions crawling all over her...  
  
Furious and frustrated, Trent let loose with the magic that she rarely used--rarely _needed_ to use. She threw a random blast of power, killing the vampire nearest to her and knocking several others away.   
  
It bought her only a moment of time, but a moment was enough. Gabriel had already slunk away out of Trent's reach, but she didn't care about him. She was at the bedroom door in a flash, wrenching it open and yelling inside. Kurt, get out--  
  
Pain ripped through her in the form of adamantium claws as Wolverine slammed into her. Trent recovered and ducked as Wolverine's next swing sliced the air above her head. Jumping back up, she landed a kick in his solar plexus, throwing him back into the arms of waiting vampires.  
  
Wolverine cursed as he struggled to free himself from these insane fighters. This was the woman who had kidnapped Kurt--he knew it, he could smell it on her! And now he was approaching the bed where Logan could see his friend, barely able to stand. Wolverine felt rage boil inside him when he saw the wounds this vixen had inflicted on Kurt.  
  
Trent rushed toward her bed. Kurt, c'mon, let's go while they're distracted by those humans--  
  
Kurt frowned, and stumbled unsteadily as dizziness threatened to overcome him.   
  
Trent motioned impatiently. I dunno who they are, but a buncha humans broke in and provided a distraction. We have to go _now,_ while the vampires are busy killing them! It's the only chance we'll have!  
  
Kurt's amber eyes widened, and his furry jaw dropped as he realized Trent was talking about the X-men. How can you--we can't just leave them here!   
  
Kurt, they were dead the moment they walked in! Now come _on, _let's-- her sentence was cut short as Wolverine once again tackled her from behind. Trent tumbled to the ground, hitting her head on the wooden bedpost as she fell. Almost knocked unconscious by her encounter with the heavy bedpost, she didn't realize she was trapped until Wolverine swam into her vision. One hand pinned her down, while the other was raised high, claws ready to deliver death.   
  
Trent brought her knee up between his legs, and when he gasped in pain she wrenched her shoulder from underneath Wolverine's massive arm. Slamming a powerful fist into his jaw, she leapt to her feet as Wolverine toppled off her with a cry. A second punch in his gut found him flying across the room to hit the remains of her bedroom door.  
  
In a flash Trent was on her feet, crushing him against the wall. A feral hiss rushed from her throat, and delicate fangs gleamed in the light. Wolverine felt a tremor of fear shiver through him as he found himself staring into downright _inhuman_ eyes that now gleamed silver.  
  
Trent, no! Trent barely inclined her head towards Kurt's voice, and growled in protest when Kurt jumped between them, pushing her away. He's mein freund! My teammate!  
  
Trent's eyebrows rose incredulously. Your _team_-  
  
She had no time to finish her inquiry. One vampire leapt at Kurt, and another tackled Wolverine; Trent pivoted, narrowly avoiding being staked by the vampire that had targeted her. Spinning, she stabbed her assailant in the back and turned her attention back to Kurt.  
  
He was sprawled on the ground, unconscious and bleeding. To her horror, Trent saw his foe lower his fangs to pierce her newfound friend's neck.  
  
With a roar, she sprang and ripped the vampire away from his prey, smashing him through the wall and down to the street hundreds of feet below. Gingerly picking up her furry friend, she turned to face the rest of her enemies.  
  
There were three coming at her with murder in their eyes; she couldn't deal with them _and_ protect Kurt. Trent's blue eyes desperately searched the room desperately for a way out, and her gaze locked on Wolverine. He was free at the moment: all the vampires in the room were focused on Trent. Making a silent prayer to the goddesses of her witch mother that this man really _was_ a friend of Kurt's, she took a gamble and tossed her charge into Logan's surprised arms.  
  
Wolverine blinked. The woman had just _given_ his friend to him--and Kurt had called her by name, implying friendship. Who was she? What was she doing with Kurt?  
  
Realizing that the situation was quickly becoming desperate for the X-men in Trent's living room, he decided to leave those questions for later and attend to the problem at hand. Rushing to help his teammates, he was immediately noticed by the enemy. Seeing Kurt in his arms, several vampires immediately shot towards him, and Wolverine made a hard decision fast. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Rogue had just dispatched her enemy and was free; he bolted to the window, broke the glass and tossed his blue friend out, praying that Rogue would understand what he needed her to do. His confidence in her proved right, as the southern belle shot past him, flying out the window to catch her foster brother.  
  
Wolverine turned to face the rest of the team. Cyke! Crawler's safe, we gotta get outta here!   
  
Cyclops threw himself down, narrowly missing being skewered by a stake someone had thrown at him. Couldn't agree with you more, Logan! X-men, let's GO!  
  
A roar came from the bedroom, and two vampires were launched through the door. Trent emerged shortly afterwards, her face and especially neck streaked with blood and sweat. Wolverine thought to himself that he never, _ever_ wanted to see a woman that pissed again in his life.   
  
Throwing a last psionic blast at her foes, Jean leapt out the window, flying down to the Blackbird below. Cyclops allowed himself to feel relieved that she was out of the fight, before focusing completely again on the enemy at hand.  
  
The pause in concentration nearly cost him his life. As his hand went to his visor to fry the nearest vampire, he didn't see another one sneak up behind him. A cold hand wrenched his head back, and another impossibly strong arm pinned the mutant leader's arms behind his back. Scott felt a burst of pain as teeth ripped at his throat, and then everything went black.   
  
Wolverine was at his leader's side in his instant, wrenching the vampire away from Scott's neck and slamming him against the wall. He turned to face the rest of his enemies, roaring animalistic threats as he sliced through his foes. Storm, get him out of here!   
  
To his surprise, Logan found Trent fighting by his side, helping him keep the mad creatures away from Cyclops. The smell of blood had sent them into an even further crazed state, and they seemed to care about nothing but getting to fresh blood.   
  
Wolverine heard a whoosh of wind behind him, and out of the corner of his eye saw Storm fly out the window, cradling Scott in her arms. He and Trent were the only ones left in the room--along with the crazed vampires, of course.  
  
They backed up, fighting their way to the window. Trent snarled, slicing through a vampire's chest with her stake, shoving Wolverine toward the window at the same time. The mighty mutant felt like pouting: they stayed dead when _she_ hit them--_whhhiii-eeee?_  
  
Trent whipped around, and gave Logan another shove on the rump. Get up... on the sill, she panted. She saw a vampire crouch to attack out of the corner of her eye, and threw a stake into his heart, stupidly turning to face him, giving the enemy at her other side an open opportunity.  
  
Trent cursed as she felt pain slice through her shoulder and chest. She turned to glare at her assailant, slashing at his throat with another stake at the same time. God, the _pain_--she'd forgotten what being hurt with wood was like. It felt like acid had replaced the blood in her veins!  
  
Holding her shoulder, Trent leapt to the windowsill, upon which Wolverine was crouching. They'd retreated as far back as they could go; the only way out was down. Trent peeked over her shoulder, and winced at the distance to the ground. She could maybe--_maybe_--survive the fall, but she doubted the man beside her could.   
  
Turning to face her enemies once again, Trent wondered how the hell she was going to get out of this. Suddenly she remembered the spells she'd cast around the perimeter of her apartment when she first rented it, and grinned. She peeked over her shoulder, and noticed a metal rod jutting out from the side of the building a dozen feet down. Ha!  
  
She turned back to face the vampires and laughed. Her right hand made a flinging gesture, dispelling a wave of magic throughout the room, stunning the vampires closest to her and setting off the spells placed throughout the apartment; her left elbow jammed into Wolverine's ribs, sending him stumbling over the edge. Spinning, she dived after him.  
  
Catching him around the chest, her other hand lashed out and caught the metal bar. _The spells should be activating right about.... now._ She braced herself as the room just a few feet above them exploded, spewing debris, magic and vampires throughout Reno. Trent gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as the building shook violently, attempting to rip Trent and Wolverine away from their fragile safety.  
  
Pain tore through her and Trent cursed, realizing that the arm holding onto the metal rod, the arm supporting both her and Logan's weight and keeping them both from death, was the one that the vampire had sliced almost completely through just seconds earlier. The muscles in her shoulder screamed, and Trent could almost hear the tendons and veins near the wound snapping from the strain of holding on.  
  
And Wolverine wasn't helping any. He was yowling like a mountain lion and slashing around down there, his claws open and slashing anything they could find--mostly Trent's arms. _Will you stop fucking around down there?!_ Trent yelled. Do you _want _ me to drop you, you moron?!   
  
Wolverine roared in reply. Hehatedheightshehatedheightshehatedheights!!! And the fact that this broad's arm was the only thing keeping him from plummeting downwards was _humiliating_, to say the least.  
  
Trent bit her lip to keep from screaming as fresh waves of pain assaulted her. Her injured arm and shoulder _couldn't_ take this weight--she wouldn't doubt that her arm would just be ripped from its socket if she had to hold on any longer.  
  
She allowed herself to peek downwards. A black and blue jet was rising towards them, and Trent could feel the minds of Kurt and his teammates,' as he'd called them, inside. Trent hoped they were coming to rescue her and her carry-on; she couldn't hold on much longer, not to mention that she could see the vampires that had survived the explosion running back towards the apartment, intent on killing her.  
  
She could feel the muscles in her arm begin to go numb, and her hand was slipping in blood and sweat. She could feel her skin ripping as her shoulder-wound expanded, almost as if she were stretching a piece of clothing that was too small. As if her seams were ripping.  
  
She couldn't take it any longer. Praying that the people in that jet down there were ready to catch them, she let go.  
  
***  
  
Jean, get us the hell _outta _here! We've got to grab Logan!  
  
I'm trying, Rogue, I'm used to Scott being awake and helping me!  
  
Ah don't care what the fu-- Storm placed a hand over Rogue's mouth before she could say something she would regret later. Rogue, Jean is doing the best she can, Ororo said calmly. I assure you, we will not leave Logan behind.  
  
Rogue walked away, cracking her knuckles and wringing her hands in frustration. Ah know, it's just--those people up there! They were monsters!  
  
Jean found the button to open the hatch, pressing it at the same time bringing the jet off the ground. Moments later, a very pissed off Wolverine plummeted through the hatch, landing in an undignified pile of limbs on the floor. Trent immediately followed him.  
  
She landed on her feet, immediately clutching her right shoulder and roaring in pain. She stumbled, not realizing that there was blood all over her face or that her mouth was open in a feral, predatory expression, exposing her fangs to everyone in the jet.   
  
The X-men stared, their expressions a mixture of horror, fear and curiosity; except for Wolverine, whose only emotion at the time was anger.  
  
What the hell do you-- he started yelling at the woman who'd saved his life, but stopped when Jean gave him a telepathic order to shut up. Storm, I think you'd better take over flying the jet, she said out loud. I need to take care of Kurt, he looks quite injured. Rogue, do you want to get our... um, guest some bandages?  
  
Rogue swallowed her fear. Sure thing, Jeannie. C'mon, sugah--let's get yer ouchies taken care of. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Trent is mine, everything else is owned by people much richer and more creative than I. Don't sue, it's bad karma.  
  
Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! Keep em coming! :)  
  
  


Chapter 4  


  
It takes a lot to scare a woman who has the power of flight, super-strength, is nearly invulnerable, drains any person who even _tries_ to touch her, and who's been raised by terrorists--especially if that woman is from Mississippi and happens to be a superhero. Nevertheless, as Rogue watched Trent jerk her shoulder away from Rogue's helping hand, the Mississippi river rat felt a tremor of fear run down her spine. Trent's eyes were glowing an eery silver-blue color, and her mouth was bared in a snarl, showing an impressive pair of fangs; she was covered in blood, and the hand not clutching her bleeding shoulder was clawed and seemed to be ready to strike out at any moment. She looked for all the world like a desperate, _dangerous_ wounded animal.  
  
Okay, then, Rogue said softly, backing up from Trent while trying to seem like she wasn't really backing away.  
  
Trent snarled. I'm _fine, _she snapped. Just... drop me off somewhere outside Reno, okay?   
  
Storm overheard and shook her head. I don't think so, miss. I don't know who you are, but you helped us fight and you saved Wolverine's life--probably Nightcrawler's life as well-  
  
Who the hell is Nightcrawler?  
  
And she didn't save my life! growled Wolverine. I would have been just _fine!_  
  
Storm said dryly. Look, ma'am-  
  
The name is Trent.  
  
Trent. My point is, you helped us out, and we're not going to just leave you here, no matter how unpleasant you try to be. We want to help you. You have a serious wound on your shoulder--will you at least let Rogue bandage it?  
  
Trent met Storm's blue eyes, then looked away, growling a bit. Rogue, huh?  
  
Rogue gulped and nodded. Yup. That'd be me.  
  
Trent bared her teeth, and it was hard to tell whether she was grinning or grimacing. Then lead the way to wherever the hell it is you wanna take care of my   
  
Trent studied Rogue as the woman carefully removed Trent's shirt (which was pretty much shredded, anyway) to better take care of her shoulder. Trent brushed Rogue's mind with her own, scanning the surface of the mutant's mind. She was beautiful, but didn't seem to know it--Trent could tell that from the way she carried herself and the look in her eyes, even if she hadn't been a mindreader. As it was, the girl's thoughts were mixed up and confused--she was curious about Trent, but scared, too, and not a little suspicious. There was a deep sadness underneath her thoughts of the previous battle and the job at hand. She'd loved someone deeply and lost them, and the memory was so intense and pain-filled that Trent hastily stopped scanning the girl's mind, a bit embarrassed to have stumbled over something so personal.  
  
Rogue looked up sharply from bandaging Trent's shoulder, almost as if she'd realized what Trent was doing. Green eyes met blue, and Rogue was startled and the intensity and chill in her eyes--it was like looking into chips of Antarctic ice. Eyes like that made you want to just lie back and let her take over, let her do anything she wanted with you--eyes like that could freeze you and hold you and never let you go.  
  
Rogue swallowed and tore her gaze from Trent's. she said, fighting to keep her voice casual. What was Kurt doing in your apartment? I assume that was your apartment, right?  
  
Trent nodded. Yeah-oh fuck, I forgot! Where the hell _is _Kurt?! She struggled to get up, but Rogue placed one gentle, but iron-strong arm on her shoulder, forcing her to sit back down. Kurt's fine, sugah, she said. Jeannie's tendin' to   
  
I forgot to tell you! Kurt's- A vomiting sound was heard from another room, followed by a scream from Jean.   
  
Rogue's expression was caught between horror, amusement, and disgust. Apparently! Ah sure hope Jean brought a backup outfit.  
  
Trent nodded. Uh-huh. Well, c'mon let's get back out to the rest of your li'l crew--I'm sure they're all dyin' to know about the bitchy newbie.  
  
Oh no! With a wound like that you shouldn't move around too much, and besides, I saw you fighting--surely you have more wounds, I _saw_ Wolvie tear into ya-  
  
Do ya see any wounds, She was right: there was some traces of blood on her stomach, and traces of sweat on her hair and face, but other than her bandaged shoulder there wasn't a thing to suggest she'd just been fighting--not even a scratch.  
  
_That's odd,_ Rogue thought as she followed Trent out. _Usually people who get speared through the gut by Wolvie have a little more to show for it._  
  
Cyclops had recovered, with only a band-aid on his neck and a rather pale face to show for his encounter with a vampire. He was lounging in the bridge with Storm and Wolverine, who was still fuming about the fact that a broad had rescued him, and that his claws had had no effect on the creatures they'd been fighting. What the hell were those things, anyway? he growled, his claws *snikt*ing in and out of his hands in agitation. And why the flamin' hell didn't they stay dead?!  
  
They were vampires, said Trent as she walked in, causing all three X-men to jump. Rogue followed her, leaning back against the wall to watch her teammates reaction to this... _interesting_ woman.  
  
Trent smirked at their obvious discomfort around her. _Boo_! she thought in her mind, giggling to herself. And to answer your second question, they didn't stay dead' because those lovely claws o' yours are about as hurtful to em as a fly landing on their shoulder--the only thing that can hurt them is wood. She bared her teeth at him, her eyes dancing in vicious laughter. One would think that an experienced, _manly_ warrior like yourself would have figured that out.  
  
Logan clenched his teeth and forced himself not to rise to her goading. Instead, his eyes were drawn to her stomach, pale and bare beneath her black sports bra. There was a faint sheen of sweat covering well-defined muscles, as well as a few traces of blood, but--nothing else. No wounds, no scrapes even, nothing to suggest that he'd speared her through--several times.  
  
Trent noticed where his eyes were and smirked. _Checkin' me out, Wolvie?' _she said in his head, and laughed when he jumped. He glared murder at her baring his teeth in a threatening growl, but Trent only flipped her hair and batted her eyes flirtatiously, that annoying smirk still on her face. Logan wanted to claw it off.  
  
Scott cleared his throat, regaining his leader' role. So, miss Raven--  
  
He was interrupted by his fiancé, who walked into the room looking as if she wanted to murder anything that moved. The four X-men and Rogue stared at her, completely dumbfounded. Her hair was mussed and tangled, her eyes were wild, and she was covered, from neck down, in a sort of light blue, chunky fluid that smelled very much like semi-digested-and-then-expelled food.  
  
Jean forced herself to breathe, counting to ten inside her mind to keep from screaming. Does anyone happen to have a spare costume, she said through gritted teeth, trying not to move and spread the vomit around any more.   
  
A moment of silence passed, and then the X-men couldn't help themselves: they all burst out laughing, even Scott, though he tried (and failed) to keep it to a discreet chuckling. Sorry, sugah, said Rogue in between hoots of laughter, But ya shoulda thought o' that before we took off from Westchester, shouldn't ya?  
  
If looks could kill, the X-men and Trent would have been no more. Jean whirled around and stomped off, muttering evil things about a certain furry elf. I think ya might wanna go calm down your girlie there, Cyke, sniggered Logan. As much as he--ahem--_admired_ Jean, that was an image that would make him burst out laughing whenever he thought of it for months.  
  
Scott grimaced and stood up, chasing after his wife before she did anything rash like throwing Kurt out of the Blackbird. Trent smirked and took a seat, followed by Rogue. She casually scanned the minds of the others in the room, learning their names, their team and their destination and little else--these two had strong mental shields, and if she went any further they would be aware of her presence, which wasn't something she wanted happening.  
  
She leaned back in her chair, yawning and stretching her arms above her head, looking for all the world like a lazy cat. she said, scratching her neck languidly. Y'all are the X-men?  
  
Storm blinked. She was certain they hadn't told her their team name--or had they? Suddenly she was unsure. Um, yes, she said. How did you know who we are?  
  
Trent shrugged. I'm a fast learner, she said evasively, before changing the subject. So you're Storm, right? And this is Rogue, the chick covered in barf is Jean, the guy that followed her is Cyclops, and this charming gent is-- her voice dropped dramatically, her hands flourished in a presenting gesture-- the mighty _Wolverine._  
  
Logan glared, again resisting the urge to pop his claws and shish-kebob her. Ain't you a delightful person, he retorted. All of a sudden I can see why all those vampires' were so eager to rip yer head off.  
  
Trent smiled, shrugging her shoulders as if to say What can I do?' What can I say, I was born charming.  
  
In whose world are you charming,' darlin'?  
  
Now, is that any way to speak to the dashing heroine who saved your life earlier?  
  
You little--  
  
Hold on a second. Logan's retort was interrupted by Storm. How did you know mine and Cyclops' name?  
  
Trent blinked. You told me, she said as if speaking to the very dumb.  
  
No I didn't!  
  
Uh, yeah, ya did. You might wanna check that memory of yours, babe--or is amnesia your mutant power? Before Storm could answer that, Trent stood up, yawning again. Well, I'm off to check on that cute fuzzy guy that somehow ended up in my bedroom three days ago. Catch ya later! She left the X-men fuming, confused and wondering what she meant by ended up in her bedroom.' Could Kurt have-?  
  
Nah. Not Kurt. He wouldn't!  
  
...right?


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: y'all know the drill. Trent's the only character that belongs to me.  
  
A/N: Sorry this one took so long, folks. I really will try to update on a more regular basis after this. You see, the main problem is that I'm also working on another X-men fic, and that's taking up half of my writing time. (Psst--go read it! It's called Don't Stand So Close to Me--read it, read it!)  
  
Enjoy and then review!  


  
Chapter 5  
  


Trent was barely able to stop herself from bursting out laughing as she left the confused and pissed off X-men to ponder what the hell was going on. Man, she loved messing with their minds like that! She could already feel how very different each of their reactions were to her: Logan very much pissed off, Storm flustered, suspicious but amused, and Rogue caught between anger and laughter.  
  
_But I shouldn't have done that,_ Trent though, and her grin disappeared. She wasn't used to talking with humans as opposed to vampires and witches, and she'd forgotten--they didn't know she was a telepath, didn't know anything about her or her abilities, and she wanted it to stay that way. Better for them not to know that she was probably more powerful than their entire team; much better for them not to know that she was half demon, half healer who was guilty of murder and worse, who was currently being hunted by an entire secret society of ruthless killers. She'd have to be careful in the future, not to give them any more clues about her telepathy--or anything else.  
  
She turned her attention back to the pile of blue fur before her. Kurt was covered in sweat and a few splashes of vomit lingered around his mouth. His fists were clenched, and his tail was lashing around. She could feel the waves of pain, both physical and emotional, emanating from him, and for a second she reeled backwards, overwhelmed.   
  
_What the fuck did that vampire do to him?_ He had been sick before, sure, had vomited plenty, but he hadn't been in this much pain. Cautiously, Trent reached out and tilted his chin upwards, revealing what could only be described as a hole in his neck, gushing blood. Trent cursed, and then cursed more--how could that prissy little redneck not have noticed this?! That vampire, when he grabbed Kurt, must have bitten him, and bitten him bad: Kurt had lost a lot of blood, not to mention that the vamp's poison' had reacted with his natural sickness, putting him in tons of pain and very possibly killing him--even if it hadn't interacted with the pain he was already in, he was losing blood fast, and Trent could feel him swirling in and out of consciousness.  
  
She looked around for the redhead--Jean--that had been acting as nurse, but she was nowhere to be found. No doubt the righteous X-men wouldn't approve of her method of saving his life, but was there really any alternative right now? As gross, shocking and horrifying as the rest of them and Kurt probably found it to be, it was the only way of saving his life right now.  
  
Swiftly making up her mind, Trent grabbed Kurt and slid him onto her lap, mentally soothing him to be calm, cradling his head with her left hand and using her teeth to make a quick cut on her wrist. Giving a silent prayer to the goddess that this wouldn't get her into too much trouble, she gently lowered her wrist to his mouth, letting just a few drops fall to his lips, and then, as he started swallowing, lowering her hand further to let him have a steady stream of her blood. She could feel her veins gently throb, and her mind slowly give in to the rhythm, the ancient ritual...  
  
_What in the flaming hell do you think you're doing?!_ Trent jerked back to alertness at the sound of the Canadian's voice, and her first thought was, _Oh, shit._ So much for not revealing any more about herself or her past.  
  
All the X-men were surrounding her. Wolverine had his claws out and was looking seriously pissed; Storm and Cyclops looked simply shocked, while Jean looked like she was about to faint and Rogue was caught between revulsion and fascination--because, despite Trent's..._unsavory_ methods, Kurt was getting color back into his face, was breathing easier and had stopped sweating.  
  
Trent quickly let go of his head, wiping her bleeding wrist--which was already healing over--on her pants while swiping the palm of her other hand over Kurt's mouth, cleaning up any excess blood. As if she could hide what she was up to now.  
  
I'll repeat Wolverine's words: Just what do you think you're doing, Ma'am? Scott's words were icy and obviously intended to be intimidating and commanding. Not for Trent. She had slipped out of hundreds of scraps and sticky situations merely by being cool and collected, and this one was no exception.  
  
Ms. Jean Grey, may I ask you a question? Startled by Trent suddenly addressing her, Jean only nodded. How on earth is it that, in even preliminary examinations, you failed to see-- she tilted Kurt's chin up, exposing his neck,   
  
Most of the X-men gasped in some of the way, and Wolverine growled. What the hell happened ta him?  
  
Kurt must have been bitten by that vampire when we were fighting--he lost tons of blood, and he was sick already--it made him far worse.  
  
Wolverine growled again. That _don't_ explain what you were doin' ta him, _darlin'_.  
  
I was giving him blood.  
  
He was drinking your blood! That's... that's.. _an abomination!_ _Apparently Red can't keep her hotheaded yowlings to herself anymore,_ Trent thought. Self-righteous people were so annoying.  
  
It's not an abomination--it was the only way I could--  
  
Ms. Raven, I'm a doctor! (A/N: So I fucked around with the comic continuum a little here. So shoot me.) You could have called me, you _could_ have staunched his wound, you could have--  
  
No, I couldn't, Trent snapped. He was _dying_! I had to act fast!  
  
So you--you-- Even Wolverine couldn't bring himself to talk about it. That's disgusting, you probably made him worse! He finally yelled.  
  
Oh, like _you're_ some expert, you big lunkhead--  
  
You should have called me, I was just in the other room--  
  
Everyone, calm down--  
  
At least I'm not some sicko who _enjoys--_  
  
Kurt's eyes fluttered open, and he looked around groggily. Why is everyone shouting?  
  
There was a silent pause, and then things were even worse.  
  
Kurt, she was trying to--  
  
Save his life, that's _all!_  
  
Oh god, you're so pale--  
  
Kurt, sugah, how're ya feelin'?  
  
All right, everyone, let's just calm down--  
  
Will you all just SHUT UP?! That last exclamation came, surprisingly, from Storm. The normally calm weather goddess looked flustered and tired, and was glaring at all her shouting teammates, very much annoyed.  
  
Trent barely had time to notice that he was pale again when the fuzzy elf pitched forward. She got a bucket underneath his head just in time.  
  
Oh, man. Jean had been splashed again. What's _wrong_ with him?  
  
Trent shrugged. Beats me. He was sick like this when I first took him in--at first I thought that it was just dehydration combined with a couple nasty concussions, but it's much worse. There's something wrong with his psyche, as well.   
  
Bleary yellow eyes met icy blue ones. Trent... was...? She brushed his face with the palm of her hand, mentally urging him to sleep. He was only too happy to comply.   
  
Logan continued to glare at her, and Trent noticed that he hadn't bothered to retract his claws. What kind of sick person are you, he growled, That the first thing you think of when you see a man in pain is feeding him human blood?!  
  
_Ouch._ That one stung. Trent glared at Logan, and was pleased to see a slight shiver go down his spine when she turned the full brunt of her anger on. Question my methods if you want, you blowhard idiot, she snapped, but I might remind you that if it weren't for me your friend wouldn't even _be_ here. she turned her voice to the rest of the X-men. What is it with you people? I fought off a gang of drunk mutant-haters to save your friend and teammate, I brought him to my apartment, saved his life and nursed him for three days, fought off an entire army of vampires that wanted nothing than to string him up by his entrails, _and_ I saved the life--although now I'm wishing I hadn't--of your resident surly asshole and I don't even get a simple _thanks?_ You people sure are hard to please!   
  
She could see Scott ruffle, almost as if he were an angry cat, puffing himself up to seem more threatening. Now wait just a minute-  
  
Oh, shuddup for a minute Scott, y'all know she's right. Trent blinked. She hadn't expected help from Rogue, of all people.  
  
The southern belle glared at her fellow teammates. She saved Kurt's life, and what her reasoning was, ah don't really know, but she saved his life _and_ she helped us get out o' that mess up in her apartment. Don'cha think we at _least_ owe her a thank you,' and probably an apology as well? She turned to Trent, her face apologetic and pissed off. Ah'm sorry, miss, my teammates have habits of jumpin' in with both feet stuck in their mouths. Ah hope you'll excuse   
  
Trent stared for a second, nonplussed. Giving herself a mental shake, she brought herself back to the moment. Um. Yeah, sure. No problem.  
  
The plane lurched, and Trent had to grab the still-unconscious Kurt by his tail to keep him from sliding off the bed. Goddammit, Scott! snarled Wolverine. Who the hell is flying this thing?!   
  
Scott stared, and then started. he yelled before dashing back to the bridge, eliciting groans from everyone in the room. So much for leaving the plane on autopilot, muttered Jean.   
  
Ororo walked over to the window, gazing out at the countryside below. We are coming up on the mansion now.  
  
_The... mansion?_ Trent quickly scanned Ororo's mind, and blanched when she saw the details of where they were taking her. She was going to some old, rich guy's mansion? Worse yet, this old white guy was one of the strongest telepathic minds on the planet. _Well, this should be interesting,_ thought Trent grimly. She didn't exactly have a ... _history_ of getting along particularly well with people whose telepathic powers rivaled her own. In fact, the few strong telepaths that she'd spent time with would most likely describe her as a paranoid, grouchy, violent, aggressive bitch' whenever she was around them. Couldn't say they were wrong, either.  
  
So she was a bit of a control freak when it came to people poking around in her mind. Why couldn't people just accept that? She hadn't _meant_ to slice through that one telepath's kidneys, after all...  
  
Ororo's soft African lilt jolted her out of her wanderings. We're going to be landing any moment now, so if you could, um, wake Nightcrawler-Kurt? I'm sure the professor will want to talk to him.  
  
Trent looked down at Kurt, and turned bright red. He was asleep in her lap, curled up like a small child or puppy would curl up in its mother's lap, and worse yet, she had been absently stroking his hair while her mind wandered. Horribly embarrassed, she gave Kurt a rude shove in the shoulder, almost sending him off the bed.  
  
He blinked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.   
  
We're almost to your weird-ass house, fuzzball. Wakey wakey.  
  
Kurt sat up and immediately groaned, putting his head in his hands. I feel _horrible,_ he moaned.  
  
Yeah, well, don't we all. Come on, I'm sure your teammates' will be wanting to know that I haven't permanently injured you.  
  
He gazed blearily at her. Teammates... ?  
  
The X-men, remember? Oh goddess, _please_ don't tell me you have amnesia on top of everything else.  
  
I... remember. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain. Where... where are we?!  
  
Trent sighed. She didn't have the patience for this right now. We're in your little X-jet,' all right? Now look, we're almost there--you're gonna have to stand up and walk, okay?  
  
Kurt nodded. He stood up, his knees wobbling, and immediately started falling back towards the bed. Trent jumped up, supporting him.  
  
There ya go. Easy does it... here, lean on me, I'll help you walk...  
  
All conversation stopped in the bridge of the Blackbird as the X-men watched Trent escort their teammate in. His arm was around her shoulder, and she was supporting him with both hands, giving encouraging comments and helping him along in an almost nurse-like manner.  
  
Trent seemed to be aware that she was being stared at, and her head snapped up, glaring at the X-men. she snarled.  
  
Scott turned his gaze from her to the landing pad. We're here.


	6. Chapter 6

Cyberwicca: Yay! Someone who read the first story! You have nooo idea how thrilled I am to have someone who read Trent Raven be also reading this. That's so cool, and I'm so happy you like it! As for whether or not there'll be romance between Kurt and Trent, weeellll... you'll just have to see. :)  
  
Thank you so much, everyone that reviewed! You guys rock my world unbelievably!  
  
A/N: You know how I said this story happens outside any timeline or event in the X-men? Well, I lied. Now it takes place after the whole abandoning-Gambit-in-Antarctica episode. I'm still sticking with the same X-men I've had throughout the story, though, along with the new ones Trent meets in this story.  
  
Enjoy!  


  
Chapter 6  
  
  


Home. Stability. Safety. Relief. Trent wasn't an empath, but she could almost feel those emotions herself, they were emanating so strongly from her companions. Even Wolverine, who seemed to be the grouchy rebel loner' type, and Kurt, who wasn't even in his proper mind. They all loved this place so fiercely, longed for it so much--it really was their home in every sense of the word, the one place in the world they could count on not to betray them. The house, the grounds, the wildflowers and weather of upstate New York--the X-men knew it all, knew it as intimately as they knew their own desires and annoyances.   
  
Trent almost felt like she was intruding on some touching, private moment, as she felt all the X-men's thoughts as they returned home. It had been a long time since she had felt that way about a place, if ever. For the first time in a while, Trent felt lonely; for a moment, she wished she was one of these people, a woman who, even though constantly racing off to save the world or fight the bad guys, always had a home to come home to, always had people who loved her, always had convictions and morals and ideas that she _knew_ to be true. Instead, here she was, a random hurricane ripping from state to state to country to country, always running from the Night World, or the past, or just her own fucked-upedness. Nothing was stable in her life: not the few acquaintances she could almost call friends, not her morals, not her home, not even her enemies. Most of the time she accepted that fact, but here, seeing these people-  
  
She could have had this in Circle Daybreak. For the shortest time, she had been part of that team, she had had a purpose, she had even had a home, enough like this mansion here to have it bring all sorts of memories up to the surface. She had been safe from the Night World, she'd had regular meals and had been able to sleep through the night without being attacked-she had even had a man she loved to share it all with.  
  
Her heart twisted at that last thought, and Trent forced her mind away from Orion--what good was it anyway, thinking of him? Of _anything_ in her past? What's done is done, and there was no use reminiscing or feeling sorry for herself. Shaking herself out of it, Trent focused on the situation at hand.  
  
Charles smiled as he gazed up at the incoming plane. Kurt had had him really worried: it was very rare that he wasn't able to track a mutant on Cerebro, especially one he knew well. Yet he was safe, and hopefully sound--their family was complete again.   
  
No sooner had the plane landed and the ramp lowered when a brown and blue blur hurtled past Xavier to crash into Storm. The normally calm goddess' stumbled and laughed. It's good to see you again, too, Kitty.   
  
Oh Ororo, I've been so worried! Ever since I got home my mind has been so fuzzy, I couldn't remember what happened to you, where you were, anything! She sniffed, quickly wiping a few tears from her eyes, and beamed at her teammates. Gosh, it's so awesome to see you all again! she said, before hugging the rest of them.   
  
Jean locked eyes with her husband over Kitty's head as she embraced the young mutant. _Her head was fuzzy?' Sounds a lot like what's wrong with Nightcrawler.  
  
_Scott frowned and nodded. Despite her exuberance, Kitty was pale, sweating, and much skinnier than much normal. Perhaps that was to be expected, seeing as she'd been stranded in Antarctica for days, but still...   
  
Detaching herself from Logan, Kitty saw Kurt and rushed to him--then noticed Trent. She took a step back, nervously eyeing her and Kurt, who, if it weren't for his arm around Trent's shoulders wouldn't have the strength to stand up. Trent only stared back, offering no apologies or explanations.  
  
Kurt looked up, his amber eyes blearily regarding his friend. Katzchen...Guten morgen, he said weakly.   
  
Kitty smiled back uneasily. Um, hey, Kurt.  
  
Xavier smiled at Trent, addressing her directly. I assume you would be the young lady that took Kurt in?  
  
_He called me a young lady. How ironic. _Uh... yeah, that would be me, I guess. I mean, he's been livin' with me for a while, so I guess I took him in... Dammit, this professor guy made her nervous.  
  
Then we are forever indebted to you. Thank you for saving the life of a dear friend. He maneuvered the hoverchair over to her, extending his hand. My name is Charles Xavier.  
  
Trent looked from the hand to the elf hanging on her shoulders, clearly not wanting to let him fall. Ever the gentleman, Hank McCoy jumped from behind the professor to take Nightcrawler in his arms. Trent started, unpleasantly surprised by yet another furry blue mutant suddenly appearing, and then took the professors offered hand. Trent Raven, she said.   
  
Welcome to our humble home, Ms. Raven. I heard word you were coming and took the liberty of arranging a room for you, which I'm sure Kitty can take you to. As he turned around to follow the rest of the X-men inside, he added silently, _And if you could please meet me in my office once you are rested? I would like to talk to you about Kurt's condition and how you found him._  
  
Trent winced. _Please don't do that._  
  
Xavier paused, and glanced back at her. _Do what?_  
  
_Poke around in my head. I can feel you brushing my shields and prowling around, and I would appreciate it very much if you would stop._ Despite her polite words, Charles could read the veiled threat.  
  
_Of course. I'll respect your privacy; but I must ask that you give my students and the X-men the same courtesy._  
  
Trent blushed--he could obviously tell that she had already rifled through the minds of several of his little team. Oops. _  
  
_A few minutes later, she found herself inside her room'--more like a good-sized apartment, either. She prowled around, looking for any booby traps, hidden compartments, escape routes--old habit.  
  
_Nice digs. It'd be fun to just stay here for a while, relax, live with steady meals, a good sleep every night, decent protection from the next asshole that wants to hunt me down.  
  
That'd be nice. Too bad it never works out that way.  
  
_Moving on. Xavier wanted her to meet him as soon as she was rested'--whatever the hell that meant. Now that she was here, Trent would love to just curl up in some comfy clothes and lounge on the queen bed reading bad romance novels for a week--now _that_ would be rested.' But Xavier probably wanted her at his office in a few hours at most.  
  
Having showered and changed into the X-uniforms' that were available, Trent stood nervously outside the door of Xavier's office. She shouldn't be this nervous just talking to him, she _really_ shouldn't, but all the same. Xavier was one of those people that commanded her instant respect--strangely enough, she genuinely _wanted_ to have him like her.   
  
She ran her hands down the front of her shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles, and ran a hand through her hair. Man, what she wouldn't do for a cigarette!   
  
Taking a last deep breath, Trent pulled herself together. She might be nervous as hell, but she'd be damned if she showed it.  
  
Xavier greeted her with a polite smile, and she had the uneasy feeling that, even if he wasn't reading her mind, he still knew how nervous she was. Trent. Please come in and take a seat.  
  
Now, if you please, I would like you to recount the events of your finding Kurt, leading up to when the X-men found you.  
  
Trent squirmed in her seat, feeling that this was too much of an interrogation. What's to tell? I was sittin' in a bar in Reno and Fuzzy stumbles in from the desert, parched and sick as hell. There was kindof a skirmish, as the bar was full of assholes and Kurt was an obvious mutant. Somehow I got involved, and I ended up slippin' out of the fight with Kurt and taking him to my apartment. Next thing I know, the X-men show up and I'm here.  
  
Xavier nodded, still not taking his gaze away from Trent. I see. I'd like you to tell me more about the fight in the bar, and Kurt's time with you afterwards--his sickness' I guess you could call it. He paused, and Trent felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine as his stare intensified. And if you please, the whole truth this time.  
  
_Crap._ He hadn't even attempted to read her mind and he knew she was leaving out some of the most important parts of the last three days. _This _ was why she hated strong telepaths: they usually happened to be very smart, intuitive people on top of the telepathy and could see past her bullshit.  
  
She recounted the story again, this time telling him everything--to an extent, of course. He didn't need to know why Gabriel was hunting her, for instance, or why she was able to hold her own against so many vampires.  
  
But when it came to what was wrong with Kurt, she found herself faltering. I... I don't know what's wrong with him. I mean, I'm no healer, but still--it's like nothing I've ever seen. He was really nauseous, _all_ the time, and part of the time he was acting like a complete animal while the rest of the time he seemed to be polite and in full control of his mind. She looked up, glaring at Xavier. Question my methods of helping him if you want, but I did the best I knew how. He'd probably be dead right now if it weren't for me!  
  
Xavier didn't even blink at her defensiveness. I'm not accusing you of anything, Trent. Whether questionable or not, you saved Kurt's life--several times, probably. For that you have my permanent gratitude, and of course you are welcome to stay here for as long as you need. He leaned in, his face the picture of concern. I know you're not telling me the whole story, Trent, and that's perfectly all right. All I'm concerned about is my students' and my teams' safety. This is a sanctuary, Trent, but not just for mutants--for anyone who needs a warm bed, a helping hand, or some kind advice. And that includes you, if you want it. He sat back and yawned, stretching luxuriously, a decidedly odd action after such an intense conversation. That's really all I wanted to talk to you about--I hope you enjoy your stay at my little house.  
  
Trent blinked. If she was remembering correctly, this was the first time _anyone_ had ever made her such a generous offer. And she hadn't even asked. She was completely nonplussed. Um... thanks, I guess. She stood to leave, giving Xavier one last confused glance before getting the hell out of there.  
  
Once out of his office, Trent collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily. Why did she feel like she'd just run a marathon? He hadn't been pushing against her shields, he hadn't even been interrogating her really. Her own nervousness and suspicions were just that exhausting.  
  
Shaking her head at her own paranoia, Trent headed for what she hoped was the kitchen--she'd caught an image of the magic room and a map to it from Kitty's mind, and god damn if she wasn't hungry.   
  
About to round the corner to enter her destination, Trent stopped short upon hearing laughter--It was Rogue and the two other women that had fought earlier that day: Storm and Jean. Dammit, she didn't really feel like socializing right now--but there was her stomach to consider, and it was really so persuasive...  
  
Before she could make up her mind, Rogue spotted her lurking by the door. Trent! Come on in, grab a bite to eat--we just made sandwiches, an' there's some fixin's left over.  
  
Crap. Well, she was now forced to socialize, but at least her stomach was happy.   
  
With a deft speed that defies description, Trent slathered mustard, mayonnaise, ham, bacon, tomato and lettuce on two slices of bread and devoured the whole thing. Trent grinned, ignoring the stares of her fellow super-powered friends. So, ya got any beer?  
  
Rogue snorted and pointed to the fridge. Did ya forget to feed yerself at that apartment or somethin'?  
  
Trent smirked, popping a can of beer and guzzling it. Not exactly--I just have a large appetite. Plus, it takes a lot of nutrition to maintain this sexy bod--wanna take it for a she said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively at Rogue, and eliciting laughter from the rest of the X-women.  
  
Well, sugah--ya never know-- Rogue winked and smiled at Trent, garnering more surprised laughs from Jean and Ororo.  
  
Why Rogue, I never knew you swung that way, teased Ororo.  
  
Yeah, I thought you were forever tied to Gambit-- Ororo stamped on Jean's foot, and the redhead immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. Oh my god, Rogue--I'm sorry, I forgot--  
  
Rogue didn't say anything. She was staring at a speck of dirt on the floor, her jaw working furiously. Before her friends could say anything to comfort or console, she left the room, walking quickly and then running as soon as she was out the door.  
  
The kitchen was dead silent--the tension was almost tangible. Finally Trent spoke. Bad ex-boyfriend?  
  
Jean sighed. Well, something like that. She sighed, getting up from her chair. I have to go, Ororo--Scott wanted to talk to me. It was nice meeting you, Trent.  
  
Storm daintily finished her sandwich, wiping her hands and mouth delicately. Despite her best efforts to honor Xavier's request, Trent found herself awash in the weather goddess's thoughts and emotions, which mainly consisted of guilt, guilt and more guilt. Apparently Jean's careless words had affected more than just Rogue.  
  
I'm afraid I must be leaving as well, Trent--I promised Kitty I would give her a blow-by-blow account of what happened in Las Vegas. But I'm sure we will have chances to talk later--I hope so, anyway. She smiled warmly, and Trent found that her words were genuine. I am very glad you are staying.  
  
Alone in the kitchen, Trent sipped her beer and wondered about Rogue's reaction. At times like this, it was so horribly tempting to just dive headlong into Rogue's psyche and find out for herself what had happened--but she'd promised Xavier she wouldn't. And she doubted that Rogue would appreciate that.   
  
Sighing, Trent left for her room. She felt strangely close to the southern belle, and she could tell that Rogue was seriously hurting. Whatever had happened with this Gambit' person, must have been... bad, for such a strong woman to be so wounded.   
  
But that was none of her business, and definitely none of her business now. Now it was time for a long overdue, wonderfully blissful, hours long, uninterrupted nap.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for the reviews; keep em comin, folks!  
I threw in some Rogue/Remy stuff in this chapter, partly because I couldn't help it and partly because, yes, it is important for the plot. I try to keep my crazed fangirl impulses at a minimum. But mostly, this chapter belongs to Kurt and Trent. Enjoy!  


  
Chapter 7  
  


  
Kurt sighed glumly, and then sighed again just for effect. It was horribly embarrassing that he, one of the top acrobats in Germany, was now so out of whack that he had to rely on the hallway wall to support him as he walked through the mansion. He could barely even balance walking on two feet now, let alone fly through the air to land on a two-inch wide bar.  
  
It had been a day since he'd arrived back home, and he felt like a new man. He didn't know what Hank had done to him, and he didn't particularly want to--all he knew was that the sickness and panic that had haunted his mind and body for the last week or so had all but disappeared, although he was still much weaker than usual.  
  
He stopped outside Trent's door, and his tail swished nervously behind him. He knew next to nothing about this woman, and yet she had let him live in her home for days, feeding him, dressing his wounds, nursing him back to life... it was an unsettling thought, really. This complete stranger (whom he hardly remembered talking with at all) had seen him at his most vulnerable, had been closer to him than he allowed many of his friends.  
  
Gulping, he knocked on her door. Might as well get this over with now.  
  
A very annoyed and sleepy Trent opened the door--you can't always assume that everyone is up and about by one pm. Despite himself, Kurt found himself staring: his deranged and animalistic self hadn't really remembered how beautiful she was. Her hair was jet-black and fell just past her shoulders, swirling around her shoulder blades in ways that made countless men weak in the knees; her skin was shockingly pale in contrast, and her eyes... her eyes sent a shiver down Kurt's spine, and he wondered if that was how normal' people saw him: as a dangerous, cunning animal, that was tame for now but could strike at any moment.  
  
Um, Hello? Trent waved a hand in front of Kurt's face, and he started, realizing that he had completely spaced out staring at her. Shaking himself out of it, he gave her a nervous smile and half bowed, mockingly kissing her hand. Guten Morgen, fair lady--or should I say afternoon?  
  
Either one, it's still too damn early. Here, come on in. Trent stumbled inside, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and heading for her bedroom to fetch some clothes. She had been sleeping straight for more than thirteen hours, and would have liked to be sleeping for at least a good three more before waking. She and Mr. Sandman had a lot of catching up to do.  
  
As she slumped off to her bedroom, Kurt couldn't help but notice Trent's distinct state of undress. Scorning the long nightgowns that Xavier provided the guestrooms with, she had apparently chosen to sleep in only a tiny X-emblazoned t-shirt, sans pants_._ Having lived around spandex-clad women for years now, Kurt should've been used to seeing attractive women dressed in so little, but no--it still caught him off-guard, in the very best sort of way.  
  
Kurt took a seat on her sofa, taking in his surroundings, which weren't much. Save for a smoldering ashtray balanced on the sofa arm, the room was completely bare of anything personal--which made sense, now that he thought of it, seeing as she'd been forced to run from her apartment in the midst of a fight.  
  
Trent emerged from her room decent and awake, and laughed inwardly at the sight of Kurt sitting nervously on the edge of her sofa, not quite sure what to make of her or the situation. Leaping catlike onto the couch, she grinned in a slightly manic way that made Kurt wonder if she was any relation to Sabretooth. So, what brings you to my humble abode, Herr Wagner?  
  
Well, I--I guess I wanted to thank you, Trent. He laughed, embarrassed. I can't quite remember all of what happened, but I doubt looking after me was the most, um, compelling task, given the circumstances.  
  
Trent raised an eyebrow, her tone mocking. Au contraire, I happen to _like_ guys that puke all over my bed. Major turn on, you know.  
  
Kurt stared, and then burst out laughing. Ah, but of course--I can see that my dashing looks and personality would easily overcome a woman even if I _was_ feeling a bit under-the-weather- at the time, he teased.   
  
Trent rolled her eyes. Yeah, _under the weather._ She looked like she was going to snap off another witty comeback, but instead she stopped, her face taking on a searching look that made Kurt squirm. You really don't remember much of what happened, do you?  
  
Kurt sighed, running his hand through his hair. Nein--or not much, anyway. I vaguely remember talking to you, and then the fight... but most everything else is just blurry. Blurry, yes--but that was only the half of it. He could remember... feelings, thoughts, emotions. He could remember her arm holding him up, giving him strength; he could remember the tingly feeling of her mind, as she connected to him, and the cold, steel anger that radiated off her when she realized that her home was being invaded.  
  
Trent narrowed her eyes, and Kurt felt his heart skip a few beats. Damn, she was scary when she had that look on her face. How... much do you remember about me? she said, her voice full of suspicion.  
  
Uh, hardly anything, really. What was up with her? She was warm (well, comparatively) and friendly one minute and cold and menacing the next. I remember that you took me in, nursed me and that you were fighting along with the X-men when we were attacked.  
  
Trent gave him a long, hard look and then seemed to relax, lying back and grinning lazily. What a pity--you didn't remember that night of unbelievable, hot sex we had...  
  
Kurt stared, growing pale. We did WHAT?!  
  
Trent laughed, guffawing so hard tears came to her eyes. Oh, man fuzzball... the look on your face! You really are way too gullible, ya know that?  
  
Kurt stared, and then collapsed in relief, realizing she was joking. Don't do that to me, he said weakly. You scared me there for a second!  
  
Trent sat up, mock-serious again. Scared' you? Just what are you implying?  
  
That perhaps being-ahem-intimate with you would not do so well for my polished, chaste reputation-  
  
Hey, I resent that! Who said I wasn't chaste?  
  
he teased, and was rewarded with a pillow thrown at his face.  
  
***  
  
It wasn't a particularly special tree, had no distinguishing marks about it, and the location wasn't anything extraordinary, either. It was just a common Oak, one of many in Xavier's gardens. But Rogue liked it, all the same.  
  
It was a good climbing tree, and Rogue loved scrambling up the bark, despite the fact that she could just as easily fly to the top of any tree she wanted. She had begun visiting its branches soon after the first real troubles hit with Remy, all those secrets of Sabretooth's. She had only come to the tree because the roof was under construction at the time, but after a while she realized she preferred disappearing amongst the tree's many boughs and hiding spots to sitting on the roof of the X-mansion. Remy spent so much time on the roof that she was haunted by his presence whenever she went up there--sometimes she could swear she even saw his face out of the corner of her eye, even months after he'd left.  
  
No. He hadn't left. She left him.  
  
Rogue sighed, resting her head against the giant trunk of her favorite tree. It smelled like sap and moss and wet leaves, as far away from the smell of bourbon, smoke and tabasco sauce as it was possible to get. Whenever she came out here, she could forget that his scent, just like the rest of him, haunted her wherever she went; she could forget his guilt plaguing her mind, his cajun accent that sometimes slipped out of her mouth these days, the taste of his mouth that still lingered, and just breathe, become part of the tree and forget that she was ever a mutant, that she ever even left Mississippi.  
  
Remy had found her up here once, after she'd heard the first dire hints from Sabretooth. What ya doin' up dere wit de squirrels, chere? You too pretty ta hide behind so many leaves like dat. She had kicked acorns down at him, and Rogue smiled at the memory of his indignant squawking as he tried to shield himself from the barrage.  
  
He was still alive, she knew it. What with the bond they already shared, not to mention his voice in her head every day, she would feel it if he weren't. She _knew_ she would, because despite her words and actions she still loved him. She had meant it when she said she would love him unconditionally, no matter what he did, but when they were outside, and he had looked at her--there had been so much guilt and self-loathing in those devil eyes, and she could feel that reflected in her own mind, along with his powers sparking from her fingertips, and she was so confused and the images of all the Morlocks dying, their screams imprinted in her brain, Kitty phasing in front of her and discorporating completely, Kurt's screams as Riptide tore into him, and Remy's horrified memories of his teammates turning on innocent children, of the blood and destruction and fear and knowing he'd caused all of it...  
  
She hadn't been able to handle it. So she ran, not letting herself think of his last words, not letting herself think of the card she'd thrown to the ground, not letting herself think of their last night together. She had loved him too much to deal with his own self-hatred, she had run from the overwhelming intensity of her own feelings as much as anything else. Maybe if she left him to die it would kill the burning passion in her own heart; maybe if she left him to die it would erase the words I love you' from both their minds.   
  
Rogue bent her head and began to cry, for what had to be the millionth time since Antarctica. She remembered Jean's words earlier that morning-- I thought you and Gambit were joined at the hip. She had been having fun, hanging with the girls, kidding around with Trent and for once, not thinking about Gambit. But those words had brought everything rushing back...  
  
Trent. Rogue made a valiant effort to steer her thoughts away from Remy and towards a safer topic. She wasn't sure what she thought of the newcomer; she seemed friendly enough, at least to Rogue, but she didn't know what the girl had against Logan--although Rogue had to admit, seeing her old friend practically frothing at the mouth because of Trent's goading was hilarious.  
  
There was something in Trent that attracted Rogue to her--she had that devil-may-care attitude, she didn't seem to care what anyone thought or what happened, just taking everything in stride.   
  
Rogue wished she could be like that.   
  
Well. No use sitting here all day, was there? The Danger Room was calling to her. Swinging her legs over the branch she perched on, Rogue dropped to the ground. She had to get him off her mind.


End file.
